Rudy thumped his fist down on the lectern. "Man, I am coming to you as a citizen! I am a reputable trader, an active member of the community, I pay my market fees, I pay my bribes, I ain't never been in trouble but for that one time - I've had a crime committed against my person, in front of witnesses! You don't believe me? Go down to the market and ask about some chick with a big mouth and a funny hat." He paused, badly out of breath. "She's a disruptive element, man. And you got to do something about her."
The general turned toward him, looking interested for the first time. "Wait... did you say funny hat?"
"Yes!"
"About so high? Trenchcoat? Looks pissed off all the time?"
Rudy nodded.
"Oh shit, man. I think I know this chick. You say she was down at the market?"
"Man, have you listened to a word I said? Yes, she was at the market. She came up, started a perfectly normal transaction with me, and then sucker punched me out of the blue."
Guerrero looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. "All right, all right," he said. "Maybe you're right this time. Maybe this chick is trouble. So - was she packing?"
Rudy frowned. "Not that I recall. Could easily be carrying a gun under that coat, though."
Guerrero nodded. "Okay, look. I’mma alert the local patrols. Chick like that should be easy to spot, right? If they see her, I'll have them move her out of town, and if she resists I'll have them put the boots to her. Okay?"
Rudy huffed. "Man, you better be serious about this."
"I am, I am. Now get out of here, man, or I'm gonna recruit you to be a tree." Guerrero picked up his loudhailer once more. "You're out of here, Johnson! Yeah, that's right. You're done! Go home!" he paused briefly. "And stop crying, you cuck!!!"
As Rudy stalked off, Guerrero turned to his second. "Okay - you hear all that? Good. So here's what we're gonna do. Put out an APB on this chick, all cars and foot patrols. If they see her, I want them to give her one chance to get out of town. If they see her again after that, I want her roughed up and thrown in cells. Got it?"
"Yes, sir," the man said. "Do we have any idea where she might be staying?"
"Naw, man, Rudy's too stupid to know anything like..." Guerrero stopped dead for a moment, and then a slow, devious smile worked its way across his face. "Wait. When she came to see us that night, she was with Todd, remember? Todd Field? The medic?"
"Yes, sir," the man said. "As I recall, he's got religion too."
Guerrero's smile grew more devious still. "Yeah... and those godly types tend to stick together. You know what? I think I know just exactly how we can get this chick out of town without her causing us any more grief."
Someone Leaves Town
Well, that sure didn't go as planned.
The drive home was an aggravating one, and Armageddon managed to get herself lost twice in Buttfuk's winding, oft-blocked streets. When she finally made it back to the suburbs it was near dark. The streets this side of town were pretty, lined with trees, and only two of the children sported visible tattoos. A police car crawled sedately along the far side of the street, the two cops inside looking bored out of their minds. The place almost looks normal, Armageddon thought. Compared to the rest of this town at least. Surely not everyone here can be horrible? I mean, take Todd. Todd's a good man, and...
And what? Some other part of her shot back. Who else is 'good' in that whole wretched family, other than Cherry? Your standards are slipping, Miss Hyde. In a den of wickedness like this, the ordinary sinner may start to look virtuous. Don't be fooled...
As she made the turn into Todd's street, the police siren hooted once and its lights flashed on. The car turned into the street behind her - not fast, but not dawdling either. See? Armageddon told herself. Even here, in this 'nice' little neighbourhood, someone's up to no good.
She sighed and shook her head, then pulled up curbside next to Todd's house. A shrill, female voice pierced the quiet of the evening: "DON'T YOU SAY THAT ABOUT MY HUSBAND! YOU - YOU HOMEWRECKER!!!"
"I'M TELLING THE TRUTH!!!" the other voice yelled back. "AND IF YOU COULD PULL YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR GODDAMN COSMETICS CASE AND LISTEN FOR A SECOND - "
Armageddon sighed as she got out of the truck. There was no sign of Hellfire's truck, but the shouting set her nerves a-jangle anyway. It had been a long day.
As she stepped out of her truck and locked the door, the police car came to an abrupt halt behind her. "Step away from the vehicle, ma'am," a voice said.
Armageddon turned to look, and saw with complete surprise that the police officer was speaking to her. "Oh, it's all right, officer," she said. "The truck is mine; I have papers. Here, let me - "
"We're not here about the truck, ma'am. We're here about you. Now step away from the vehicle and keep your hands where I can see 'em."
The cop was watching her nervously, his hand hovering close to his gun. The second cop, still inside the car, spoke briefly into the radio and then came out to join his companion. Where the first cop looked tense and edgy, this fellow wore a cool smile. "You know why we stopped you?" he asked.
"I'm sure I haven't the faintest idea," Armageddon sniffed. Her initial disquiet was dissolving into indignation. She was an excellent driver, and she always kept her truck in tip-top condition. Why had they stopped her?
"You got any contraband in the truck?" the cop asked. "Explosives, stolen goods, Spacehammer 3000 figurines?"
"Space what..?" Armageddon spluttered. "No... I don't even know what - "
"All right - let's see those papers."
Armageddon handed them over. "They're perfectly up to date," she said. "And I know I wasn't speeding, so I can't think why - "
The cop suddenly tittered. "Hey man," he said. "Come check this out."
The first cop came over, still watching Armageddon carefully, and then glanced down at her papers. He tittered, seemingly in spite of himself.
"Armageddon Hyde," The cop said. "Lady, what on God's green earth you doing walking around with a name like that?"
"I was named for my birthday," Armageddon snapped. "I was born the day of the Cloudburst. Did you stop me just so you can laugh at my name? Or do you have a legitimate reason for bothering a law-abiding citizen?"
"As it happens, we do," the smiling cop said. "Assault and battery. That ring any bells, Ms Hyde?"
Armageddon gulped. "What...?"
"Does the name Rudy McSmalls mean anything to you?"
Oh... Armageddon kept her voice steady, but she felt her face going red. "I've heard the name. What about him? I hear he's a drug dealer."
"Is that right?" the smiling cop said. "Well, I heard you assaulted him. Punched him in the face, unprovoked, at the town market. We've got witnesses - people who've seen the damage you did to that poor, poor man. What do you have to say about that?"
"Unprovoked?!" Armageddon cried. "The man committed blasphemy! Equating the Lord above with some - some drug! He - "
"Sounds like admission to me," Mr Smiley said, glancing at his partner. "What do you think, Vance?"
Vance frowned. "I think... uhhh..."
Smiley looked pained. "C'mon man," he muttered. "We went over this."
"I think... uh... I think that assault is punishable by um... yeah it sounds like assault to me."
"And that's punishable by up to 12 months in prison," Mr Smiley said. "Not to mention that you could be sitting in jail for the best part of a month before you even see trial. You seen the inside of a Buttfuk jail, Missy? I'll tell you, it ain't pretty."
"But this man is a criminal - he was trying to sell me drugs - "
Mr Smiley went on as if he hadn't even heard. "Of course," he said, "there might just be a way for you to get yourself out of this tangle - you know, if you want to play ball."
Armageddon stiffened. "I've got no money to speak of."
The cop laughed. "This gal's a trip, ain't she, Vance? No, Miss Hyde, I don't mean money. I mean maybe we give you a second chance, on account of Rudy being a scumbag drug de
aler and you being a fine upstanding citizen and all. One chance - if you're willing to take it. Shall I go on?"
"I'm listening," Armageddon muttered.
Smiley stared into her eyes. "You leave town now - tonight. And you don't come back. You do that, and you've got nothing to fear from the BPD. But if we see you again - ever..." his voice dropped, becoming low and menacing. "Well... I'd like to think you wouldn't take too much damage if we had to haul you in. But you look like the resisting type... and those types... well... they don't tend to fare too well. Lot of 'em wind up in the infirmary. You understand?"
Armageddon scowled. "Believe me, I'd like nothing better than to be shot of this wretched place. But I can't leave yet. I need another day before I - "
The cop looked amused. "Oh really? To do what?"
Armageddon hesitated: she could hardly tell them of her plans to beat Hellfire into a talkative mood. "I... uh... I have some business with my host family before I leave. Just one more night - "
"Nuh-uh," Smiley said. "I don't think so, lady. You're far too eager to stay, and that tells me you're up to something. You're leaving now - and you know what? I think we'll come along with you. Make sure you don't get yourself lost on the way out of town."
"No - no, you can't - "
The cop stepped up close to her, leaning in. Armageddon smelled peppermint on his breath. "And I'll tell you something else," he said. "You look like the willful type, so let me make myself absolutely clear. If you come back to Buttfuk, it won't end well - for you, or your lovely host family." Armageddon looked up at him, startled. "Yeah, I know the Fields," Smiley said. "Todd and his smartass daughter and whatever other punk losers they've got staying with them this week. You reading me yet, missy? You might be willing to risk your own hide, but are you willing to put your friends at risk too?" He smiled at her. "Harboring a fugitive is a serious crime. Can you imagine your buddy Todd in jail? I can. And you know what? It's a pretty goddamn hilarious image." He chortled and slapped the bumper of Armageddon's truck. "We understand each other? Good. Hop on in, Ms Hyde, and we'll show you out."
Face blazing, stomach tied in knots, Armageddon climbed inside the truck. As she started the engine, she heard a voice from Todd's house scream: "YOU'RE A WALKING BUCKET OF CRABS, YOU SKANK!!!"
Hippies, Hippies Everywhere
In which Armageddon tries and fails to sulk in splendid isolation.
She dreamed she was at the annual church picnic. In her dream, clean-cut young men carried tables and set up tents, while modestly clothed ladies smiled at polite children as they laid out plate after plate of wholesome home baked goods. But something was wrong. One of the tents wouldn't go up, and the young men were having a dispute about it.
"No, no - we have to put in the cross brace first, or it'll sag."
"Look, brother, you just need to tie it off here."
"Woah, it's still sagging. Maybe we can tie it to that truck?"
"That's bad karma, brother. What if the truck has to move?"
"Oooh. Yeah. But wait - what if the truck did move? Then we could put a stake in!"
"Oh yeah! You're a genius, brother!"
There was a loud knocking just beside Armageddon's ear, and she realized that the voices were not part of her dream. She sat up groggily and squinted out the window of her truck. A young face framed by a lot of hair and a scruffy beard peered in at her.
"Hey, sister? We need you to move your truck. Just, like, a little bit."
Full consciousness descended on Armageddon like the wrathful hand of a church elder. She looked past the hairy face and saw a wall of brightly colored cloth. The view from her other windows was similar.
When she stopped last night, she had been alone in the empty desert. She'd driven away from Buttefuq for hours, off road and following her compass, till she was sure she was well away. Before stretching out in the back of her truck to sleep, she had looked all around and seen not the slightest sign of anybody. But somehow, while sleeping in the empty desert, she'd been surrounded.
Armageddon put her hand on her gun and rolled down the window.
"Who are you and where did you come from?" she demanded.
The hairy face looked confused.
"Uh - I'm Paul Cricket. And, uh... Mossberg?"
A second face joined Paul Cricket at the window. This one had less hair, and a smiley-faced sun tattooed on his forehead.
"Sorry to wake you up, sister. Could you please move the truck? Just a few feet would be fine."
Armageddon gave up. She had no idea what was going on, and she was clearly not going to get any answers until they stopped asking her to move. She climbed into the driver's seat and rolled the truck as far forward as she could before she was blocked by a tall, high-pointed tent made of white silk. She could see open desert beyond it, but there were tents on either side of her and no room to pass. In her rear-view mirror, she could see Paul and Sun-face busily hammering a stake into the ground her truck had just occupied. She wasn't just surrounded; she was trapped.
Someone must be in charge of this... circus. Armageddon locked her truck, and then walked back to where the two young men were admiring their handiwork.
"Hey sister! Thank you kindly for moving the truck," Paul said. "Me and Sunboi here, it's our first year. We're still learning. These tents are really complicated!"
"Learning is life, life is learning. Love and gratitude," Sunboi added.
Armageddon wasted a good fifteen seconds trying to figure this out. Finally, she gave up.
"What is this?" she demanded. "Who are you people??"
"This is Camp West," Paul Cricket said. "It happens every year. But in different places."
"We journey to a place where we can contemplate the center of selfless love, and dedicate ourselves to the Atma of the world. Love and Truth." Sunboi put one hand on his heart as he spoke.
"It's like a picnic for the soul," Paul Cricket said. "We're here to commune with the energy of the desert."
"Whose tent is that?" Armageddon demanded, pointing at the white one.
"Sorry sister, I don't know. It was here when we got here." Paul shrugged apologetically. "They're probably over at the kitchens, getting breakfast. Just head head that way – you won’t miss them.”
The 'kitchens' turned out to be a pair of food trucks parked next to a long low tent. There were a few random campfires dotting the land nearby, some with pots or kettles bubbling over the flames. At one of the fires, a man with hair down to his waist sat tuning a guitar; further off, behind the tents, Armageddon heard the sound of drums and the occasional burst of laughter. A steady stream of people were walking to and from the kitchens: some made their way into the tent, while others approached the fire cooks, chatting and laughing. Their voices blended together, and Armageddon could only make out snatches here and there:
"Moon's moving into Taurus - "
"All good, sister, all good - "
"Is there honey in this?"
"I dunno, brother, I'm just gonna go with the flow - "
"This one's made with hand carded alpaca wool, on a willow hoop, with naturally gathered feathers..."
"Now? Nah, man, I'm starving. Let's just - "
Armageddon headed for one of the trucks. It was big, maybe 16 feet, with the words LOVE FOOD ARMY emblazoned on the side in green. A group of teenagers were just leaving, leaving a single old man standing talking to the owners. "Aw c'mon, Pearl," the old man was saying. "It's just bursters being bursters, man."
"I'm not a man, Wade, in case you didn't notice," said one of the owners, a big-boned woman wearing a kerchief. She handed the old man a steaming paper cup. "Look, I'm not saying he can't stay here. All welcome, so long as they don't make trouble, right? I'm just saying he's peddling a bunch of agenda-driven garbage, and he deserves to be called out on it. Ain't that right, hon?" she glanced at the other woman, who was working the burner, shifting vegetables from a chopping board into a well-oiled pan.
"Absolutely, dearest," the other w
oman said. She was a rather petite redhead, her hair cropped in a short pixie cut. "Freedom of speech don't mean no one gets to call you on your bullshit."
Armageddon winced at the swear, but her stomach was growling at the smell of food - she hadn't eaten last night and was now starting to feel positively light-headed. The two women looked up curiously as she approached, and Wade tipped an imaginary hat in her direction. "Well," he said, "I guess I'll leave you ladies to your customer, here." He winked at Armageddon as he walked past. "Top of the morning to you, Miss."
"Thank you," Armageddon managed. She approached the truck: mouth-watering aromas of bread, spices, and frying mushrooms assailed her. "Is it too late to order breakfast?" she asked.
The big woman named Pearl smiled down at her, a gold front tooth winking in the sun. "Well, you can call it breakfast if you want, sweetie - we're kinda on a fixed menu out here."
"Oh." Armageddon blushed slightly. "Well, I'll take what you have. I'm starving, to tell you the truth." She wasn't sure why she'd volunteered that, but the two women looked at her sympathetically and she caught herself blurting out: "I haven't eaten since yesterday morning."
"Sheesh, honey, that's no good," The redheaded woman said. "Tell you what. I have a plate of beans, rice, mushrooms, and organic whole grain bread coming your way in about..." she glanced at the burner. "sixty seconds. How does that sound?"
"That sounds wonderful," Armageddon told her. "Thank you." As the redhead shifted the pan on the burner, she rummaged in her pocket for her wallet. "What do I owe you for that?" she asked Pearl.
"On the house, darlin'," Pearl said. "You look like you need it. If you stick around a bit, you can pay us for the next one, okay? We run kind of a barter system here in the camp, so if you got a trade, might be we can find some work for you."
"Oh," Armageddon said. "Thank you very much. I... I don't think I'll be sticking around, though." She felt suddenly guilty about taking food from these women and offering nothing in return. "Are you sure I can't pay you?"
Armageddon Hyde in The Chosen and the Damned Page 8
